


Meanwhile, in Remedial English

by nikoraito



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 13:19:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/736137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikoraito/pseuds/nikoraito
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A human!highschoolStuck AU wherein Dirk is a no-nensense straight A student, and Jake is a huge underachiever with really bad grades; when they meet...</p><p>...a thing happen</p><p>(Title and prompt credited to the fine lady at toogism.tumblr.com )</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "...This is your lunch period?"

**Author's Note:**

> Rated mature because upcoming maybe NSFW woo

# Meanwhile, in Remedial English

## Chapter 1: "...This is your lunch period?"

                A young man sits in silence at a desk with a notebook, a pen in his hand, and reads from a textbook, occasionally jotting down tidbits of information in the notebook. There is a sharp BANG as the door to the library, which everyone forgets has a bad damper that causes it to slam shut if you don’t close it yourself, shuts violently. The young man who is studying looks up from his notes and peers chillingly through his POINTY ANIME SHADES at the transgressing interloper.

                This young man’s name is Dirk Strider.

                The interloper, a kid with large, messy black hair, and a small goatee turns slowly as though only half-concerned, and shrugs dismissively – then resumes ingression and continues into the library, half-stumbling as though distantly intoxicated. Specifically, he locks eyes with Dirk for a brief second and grins half-lustily, before half-stumbling half-straight toward him.

                Dirk resolutely returns to studying while the kid, obviously exceptionally stoned, clumsily makes his way toward him. He has enough time to scribble down something from the textbook about the effects of drug use on adolescents, before it’s time to receive him.

                “What’s all up, my motherfuckin scholarly brother?” he asks, still grinning widely, just standing there, slouching.

                Dirk doesn’t bother to look up before he responds – in fact as he does he writes down a statistic concerning the ages of recreational marijuana users – “I’m studying, Makara, Please leave me alone.”

                “Aw man, why you gotta up an’ be like that? I just wanted to see if you… Uh… Heh…” – he trails off, seemingly lost. He appears to be staring off into space, still smiley as can be.

                Dirk turns his head slowly to face him, before urging, coolly, “To see if I _what,_ Gamzee?”

                Gamzee’s eyes suddenly come back into focus and his face looks as though he’s had a sudden absolutely stunning realization; the universe appears to plunge torrentially into his eyes before he replies, face slowly returning to “normal”

                “Oh right, yeah – I was gonna see if I could all hit a brother up for some motherfuckin sustenance. This motherfucker’s all up an’ runnin on empty, know what I’m sayin?”

                Dirk slowly turns back to the book.

                “We’re in a library; I don’t have any food, Gamzee.”

                His voice is so chilly that it seems to condense Ice IX from the air around them, and Gamzee visibly shudders.

                “Nitram’s in here somewhere, though, why don’t you try him? He usually has some NutterButters or something.”

                “Ah, yeah I forgot motherfuckin’ bestfriend’s always up here during lunch…”

                “…This is your lunch period?”

                “You got that right, a brother can always count on it being this motherfucker’s lunch period around this time of day,”

                “If you’re hungry… why aren’t you in the cafeteria?”

                Then Gamzee’s eyes get really really _really_ wide, his jaw drops, and the infinity of cosmos seems to pierce through his skull once again, before he half-whispers, “A motherfucker’s not really sure come to think of it – “

                Gamzee turns to walk out of the room, and just then a different kind of loud slamming noise busts out from the computers behind them, as well as some extremely frustrated sputtering.

                “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME PIECE OF SHIT MACHINE, DON’T YOU TALK TO ME ABOUT SYNTAX ERRORS, FUCK”

                “Karkat, thtop, thtop – you didn’t initialithe like four fucking variableth or thome shit and you didn’t clothe like four parenthetic thtatementth”

                “WELL SOLLUX, AREN’T YOU JUST AMAZING AT THIS, YOU SHOULD TEACH CLASSES EVERY MONDAY – I WOULD SAY WEDNESDAYS BUT MONDAY IS THE ONLY DAY YOU CAN PRONOUNCE,”

                “Fuckin’ – thtop it, jutht fikth the errorth in thith program and we can go.”

                “FINE, I’LL TRY TALKING TO THE MACHINE AGAIN.”

                A couple seconds later Karkat starts banging the keyboard again, yelling furiously. Sollux has his face buried in his hands. Karkat runs a hand through his hair, then lashes out with it, screaming with vicious rage. At some point during the outburst a keyboard is hurled through the air, smacking into the table in front of Dirk and exploding into a shower of loose keys. Calmly, Dirk closes his book and stands up to leave.

                Just as he passes through the doors to the library, making it a point to stop them from slamming, he hears another set of feet coming down the hall. He looks over to see another boy, about his age, probably in his grade, that he’s seen in the hall a couple times - never this close, though.

                His heart skips a beat, and Dirk has to fight the urge not to start when the boy, dark-haired and bespectacled (and wearing a pair of… bravely short khaki shorts) meets his gaze.

                The kid grins, overbite exaggerated by the expression, and proclaims adventurously, “Tally ho!”

                In passing, he quickdraws a pair of finger-pistols and winks, flashing an even brighter smile at him.

                Under his icy shell, Dirk cracks a little, as though he was actually shot – totally caught off guard. The only thought he can manage to salvage from the suddenly derailed wreck of his train of thought is –

…that this kid has a _poppin’_ booty.


	2. 私はそれを望んでいる。

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, we take a look at Jake's class, later that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also forgive me but lots of profanity will happen all over the place; if you get offended by profanity idk why you're reading slashfics xD

# Meanwhile, in Remedial English

## Chapter 2: 私はそれを望んでいる。

               

                A young man, something like 16, with dark hair and rectangular glasses is slouching in a chair in his fourth period – immediately after lunch – twiddling a pencil between his fingers, looking generally uninterested, distracted. His eyes aren’t focused on anything specific but are pointed roughly out a window to his left. Incredibly bored, his thoughts have turned to fantasy.

     Our point man’s name is Jake English, and he is a rough-riding gentleman adventurer…

_It’s -6 degrees centigrade._

_He’s snowmobiling down a mountain, shooting over his shoulder at some form of bandit or another, with a damsel in a deep blue parka clinging to him for dear life. Behind them are three more snowmobiles, the largest one with a machinegun mounted on it, in close pursuit._

_Bullets are flying by them at a maddening rate, the fire of the machinegun ratcheting behind them like some sick, infinite string of firecrackers._

_Like any sensible man, he goes for one of the smaller threats first – the obvious answer._

_He veers past a tree and then, satisfied there is no further obstruction in his descent, whips his gun around and takes one extremely hopeful and incredibly lucky shot at the snowmobile chasing from their left, and it strikes true._

_The man on the snowmobile is struck in the shoulder, veering off to his side, straight into the large machine in the middle. True to the current sense of adventure, the collision results in a mindboggling explosion, in which all members of the chasing party surely perish. They slow to a crawl to observe the smoke plume as it advances into the sky… He turns to his damsel, who sighs. However, his damsel’s face is now replaced with the face of another…_

_To his confusion, it is the boy from before, who was walking out of the library._

_“Oh, Mr. English…”_

_The boy removes his POINTY ANIME SHADES, revealing two closed eyes. He leans in for a smooch..._

_And Jake, not being one to disappoint, indulges the idea… And unexpectedly finds himself enjoying it quite a lot. He hears the boy moan in the back of his head as he begins to unbutton Jake’s shirt – no doubt impressed by the sheer muscular definition on this slick rough-‘n-tumble guy’s chest…_

     “ _Mister English…”_

**“MISTER ENGLISH.”**

     Suddenly he’s in the classroom again. His lips are pressed softly into his fist. Realizing he’d been unwittingly kissing his hand in the middle of class, he shakes the thoughts of…

                                                           … _adventurous_ indulgence…

                                                                                                        …into oblivion.

     He looks up; the teacher, Mrs. Echidna is staring straight at him.

     “What is the answer to the question on the board?”

     He looks past the teacher and processes the contents of the board. On it is a simple diagram, which is a triangle with three inscribed angles; one reads 50 degrees, the next reads 40 degrees, and the third reads _x_. Beneath the triangle is the instruction “Solve for _x_ ”. Anyone who knows anything about anything knows that the angle _x_ should be 90 degrees, and it so happens that Jake English is someone who knows something about something, so he is fully aware that the answer to the question is ‘ _x = 90’._

     Certainly it should seem that he would have no trouble answering the question, considering he is fully aware of what the answer is.

     Without question, then, it comes as a surprise to everyone when his answer is not _“x = 90”_ but…

 

_“…x = 69”_

 

     There is a momentary tension in the room as the answer hangs in the air, lost.

     In this moment he is blushing wildly, suddenly realizing what he’s let slip. After all, his classmates all look up to him as being the smartest kid in remedial geometry; how could he _firstly_ give the _wrong_ answer to such a simple question – and secondly give _that_ answer?

     Cronus Ampora, a greaser-looking kid to his left, scoffs. _Dumb cat’s making a joke, has to be._

     Everyone else in the class is pretty much knocked out with boredom by this point, but nonetheless there are a couple different, mostly irrelevant reactions sprinkled around the classroom, including some sneezing.

     “I- I mean,” Jake stammers, “I mean 90! _x = 90._ ”

     Mrs. Echidna simply rolls her eyes. _Fucking teenagers._

     “Yes, Mr. English, bravo. _X = 90_.”

     As she continues to drivel on about angles and related topics, the people around Jake have a couple of their own things to say, namely Damara Megido, a Japanese girl with a bun and chopsticks in her hair; she has a bit to say about the prospect of Jake’s Freudian slip;

     “私はそれを望んでいる。”

     Cronus scoffs again, batting his hand dismissively, “Fucking Japanese…”

     “ボールをくすぐる。ストロークシャフト。存在をもくろむ” she says sensuously, turning to Cronus. She makes a tickling gesture, then a gesture like she’s cocking a shotgun, all the while looking very much lost in thought; Jake has no idea whatsoever she could be talking about, but Cronus is blushing like mad; Damara shoots him another fiery stare and winks, flicking her tongue out and licking her lip.

     A bead of sweat drips down Cronus’ forehead and he gulps audibly.

     Damara grins and they both raise their hands at the same time. In comical unison, they both say something loudly;

     “Ma’am I need to use the bathroom or whatever,”

     “私たちは、お互いの身体に触れる。”

     The teacher, preoccupied with writing something on the board, waves them out. They proceed to grin widely at each other. Cronus bolts up with much rather clumsy gusto to hold the door open for her, and gives a _“thanks dude”_ gesture to Jake before sprinting into the hall himself, giggling excitedly.

     Jake sighs. If only _he’d_ benefit from his own mistakes like that, then he might be a much happier dude – _significantly_ less prone to getting lost in thought in class and making out with his hand.

     Of course, it’s not long before he turns to thoughts of adventure again, and angles, trigonometry and Angle-Side-Side theorems are lost on him; he begins to think of a _different_ kind of A-S-S theorem…

_…It is -6 degrees centigrade._

_Jake English finds himself in the embrace of his damsel once again, this time pressed into the snow, topless, a few meters from the snowmobile. He grins a devilishly handsome grin – only further accentuated by his cruelly attractive overbite – staring into a pair of stunningly…_

_…POINTY ANIME SHADES…_

_…looking down on him as the damsel undoes his own coat, revealing a very defined set of pecs of his own, nipples so hard (due to the exceedingly cold -6 degree – though, quickly heating – weather) that  they could cut diamonds, and skin as smooth, ironically, as the ass of a wee, innocent baby…_

_Ever the gentleman, Jake helps toss the jacket aside and grins… daringly._

_“Now,” he says in the most dashing, mangrit-laden voice imaginable, “Where were we?”_


End file.
